The land is like poetry: it is inexplicably coherent, it is transcendent in its meaning, and it has the power to elevate a consideration of human life.

To put your hands in a river is to feel the chords that bind the earth together.

If stories come to you, care for them. And learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.

We cannot, of course, save the World because we do not have authority over its parts. We can serve the world though. That is everyone's calling, to lead a life that helps.

The interior landscape responds to the character and subtlety of the exterior landscape; the shape of the individual mind is affected by the land as it is by genes.

Everything is held together with stories. That is all that is holding us together, stories and compassion.

The land gets inside of us; and we must decide one way or another what this means, what we will do about it.

real beauty is so deep you have to move into darkness to understand it.

Sometimes a person needs a story more than food to stay alive.

We simply do not understand our place in the universe and have not the courage to admit it.

I know of no restorative of heart, body, and soul more effective against hopelessness than the restoration of the Earth.

In Buddhism we also interprete Dharma to mean 'cessation, ' as in the end of dissatisfaction, the end of dukkha. This is the purpose of Buddha's teachings.

It may not be an easy thing to live in sweet fellowship with all those with whom we come in contact

For one last time, I said my goodbyes to the place I’d known as home for the last decade, and for the first time, I welcomed the unknown.

Artificial manures lead inevitably to artificial nutrition, artificial food, artificial animals and finally to artificial men and women.

I don't fully understand movements in the gold price.

I think I have just always had an awareness that when you go to a premiere and people start cheering and shouting your name and stuff, they are shouting at a perception of you that they have.

New happiness too must be learned to bear.

The worst job I ever had was as a forensicologist for the United Nations. One time I thought I'd come across the mass grave of a thousand snowmen, but it turns out it was just a field of carrots.

A man's reception depends upon his coat; his dismissal upon the wit he shows.

Tonight I think again of many days that are sacrificed for one night of love. Of the waste and the fruit of the waste, of plenty and of fire. And how painlessly-time.